Crashed (Driven, #3)(98)

She’s laughing with me too but her laughter is chased by tears as she looks at me and continues. “I mean who knew the man had sperm with super powers that could just swoop on in, rescue and repair a broken womb like a damn superhero?”

I choke out a cough, startled by what she’s just said because I’ve never told her about Colton and his superheroes, never wanting to betray his trust. And she never notices, she just keeps going. “From now on, every time I see a Superman logo, I’m going to think it stands for Colton and his super sperm. Breaking through eggs and taking names.”

I laugh with her, all the while silently smiling softly at her words and looking toward the doorway, wanting him—needing him—to come back in the worst way.

“How’s he doing?” she asks after her laughter tinged tears slowly abate.

I shrug. “He’s not really addressing the—the baby.” I struggle even saying the word and squeeze my eyes shut to try and push the tears back. She squeezes my hand. “He won’t say it but he blames himself. I know he thinks that if he hadn’t left me at the house alone then Zander’s dad wouldn’t have been there. Wouldn’t have hit me. I wouldn’t have …” And it’s silly really that I can’t say the words—miscarriage or lose the baby—because after all this time, you’d think my lips would be used to saying them. But each time I think it … say it, I feel like it’s the first time.

She nods her head and looks at me before looking down at our joined hands. I wait for her to speak, one of her Haddie-isms to fall from her mouth and make me laugh, but when she looks up, tears are welling in her eyes. “You scared the shit out of me, Ry. When he called me … if you could have heard what he sounded like … it left no doubt in my mind how he feels about you.”

And of course my eyes tear up because she is, so she stands and shifts to sit on the bed next to me, pulling me into her arms and holding on tight—the same position we’d spent hours in after I lost Max and our baby. At least this time, the burden weighing down on my heart is a little lighter.





I feel like I’m in a parade as Colton pushes my wheelchair toward the hospital’s exit. I don’t need the wheelchair but my nurse says it’s hospital policy. My mom is chatting quietly with Haddie and my dad is listening with a half smile on his face because even he isn’t immune to Haddie’s charm. Becks is pulling the Range Rover up front for Colton while Sammy stands at the entrance to the hospital, wary of any press who luckily have not caught wind of the story. Yet.


Colton is quiet as he pushes me, but then again he has been for the better part of the last two days. If it were anyone else I’d chalk his withdrawal up to the unexpected meeting with my parents. I mean, meeting your significant other’s parents is a huge step in any relationship, let alone someone like Colton who has a nonexistent history with this kind of thing. Add to that meeting your girlfriend’s parents after she miscarried a baby she never knew existed.

But not Colton—no—it’s something different. And as much as I love my parents for rushing up here, Haddie and her nonstop humor, Becks with his unexpected wit, and every other person who has stopped by to wish me well, all I want is to be alone with Colton. When it’s just the two of us he won’t be able to hide from me and ignore whatever is on his mind. The silence is slowly smothering us, and I need us to be able to breathe. I need us to be able to yell and scream and cry and be angry—get it all out—without the eyes of our families watching to make sure we don’t crack.

Because we need to crack. We need to break. Only then can we pick up each other’s pieces and make each other whole again.

I glance behind me and steal a quick glance at Colton and his sedate expression. I can’t help but wonder what if Zander’s dad hadn’t happened? What if I was still pregnant? Where would we be then?

Don’t focus on that, I tell myself, even though it’s all I can think of—me being pregnant. It feels like such a real possibility, tangible even, that it’s constantly flickering through my mind. Colton stops the wheelchair as we exit the doors of the hospital and walks around the front of me. His eyes meet mine, a softness to the intensity that I’ve noticed there over the past few days. A smile creeps over his lips. Could I ever walk away from this man because I want a child and he doesn’t? Would I be willing to leave the one man I know I can’t live without for the one thing I once thought I’d do anything to have?

No. The answer is that simple. This man—damaged, beautiful, work-in-progress man—is just too much of everything I need to ever walk away from.

Colton leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as guilt flickers through me for even thinking such thoughts. “You doing okay?”

I reach up and place my hand softly on the side of his cheek and smile with a subtle nod of my head. “Yeah, you?”

The grin lights up his face because he knows I’m referring to the looks we’ve both seen my dad giving him as he figures out if this man is good enough for his little girl. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says with a wink and a shake of his head as he stands up, eyes still locked on mine, smile still warming my heart. “Do you doubt my abilities?”

“No, that’s one thing I most definitely do not.” I laugh and stop when he tilts his head to the side and stares at me. “What?”